


The Massage

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock TV
Genre: Hand Job, M/M, Massaging, Silk Boxers, balls holding, cock holding, fingering ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: Taken from "The coach" scene on pornhub.





	The Massage

The rain is pelting down at us as we stand out in the street looking down at a woman's body with multiple stab wounds. 

Sherlock is kneeling down assessing every part of her as I stand next to him. The DI Greg is holding off his minions until Sherlock has concluded his hypothesis.

* * *

As the tall, lanky detective stands up he steps into the blood pooled beside the body and slips.

          "ah, oh, I twisted something." he grimaces.

Giving him my arm to stabilize him, Sherlock holds his hand tight onto his right inner thigh.

* * *

Greg offers one of the police cars to take us home, and I gladly accept.

* * *

Helping my flatmate out of the car and into 221B he's visibly wincing at each step.

Up the stairs and throwing my coat off I say in a firm voice.

          "Take all your clothes off; you are soaked through. I'll get a vigorous fire going in the fireplace."

* * *

As he does, clothes flying onto the floor and chair, I pile the firewood high in the fireplace. The flames lick up the wood quickly giving off a robust heat.

* * *

I divest myself of my clothes, all except my plain cotton black briefs.

There's a small lamp on the table by the sofa which I turn on to illuminate the area. The sky outside gives off little light in this hard driving rain.

I see Sherlock hobble to the sofa, only his black silk briefs on.

* * *

My bedroom holds my medical bag, and I enter, grab the ointment and back out to the sitting room.

Placing a small pillow under Sherlock, so his body is slouching I wrap a blanket around his shoulders.

* * *

The fire is blazing, the room warming up quickly.

* * *

Sitting next to him on his right side I place my fingers over the area he's holding on to, taking his hand away.

          "Your muscle is tight, let me rub it out."

Taking the ointment which smells of lavender, I rub it into the palm of my left hand, warming the oil and then onto my fingers.

* * *

My index and middle finger begin a deliberate, unhurried motion on his inner thigh almost up to his groin area.

Lazy circles with the two fingers, from the outer to the inner part of the thigh, back and forth.

My other hand rests lightly on his knee, and moves, palm flat, up and down his leg. Soothing, easing his tension.

* * *

His eyes closed, he hums a breath.

For minutes the only sound is the rain against the window, the fire crackling and the clock softly ticking.

* * *

Lifting the leg edge of the silk boxers not measurably much with my left thumb and index finger, two of the digits on my right hand knead the skin between his crease, sliding up and down and then over to the thigh area.

* * *

Sherlock spreads his legs wider to allow easier access.

* * *

Still holding the briefs up I run over the thigh, into the crease and sliding up to his hip. Down to his thigh again.

* * *

The rain, a steady downbeat. The firewood sizzling, the beat of the ticking clock.

* * *

Lifting the boxer edge ever slightly more I caress the skin and expose a testicle, never ceasing in my stroking, expanding the fondling to the round soft, spongy skin.

* * *

Time ticks by, the clock sounding off. Breaths are sounding swifter. Flames licking up higher.

* * *

My fingers move the material further up to unmask the second testicle, to which I place both gradually in the palm of my hand, rotating, stroking with fingertips.  
Each gentle squeeze, each glide of my fingers meant to soothe.

* * *

Lamp light dim, fire light yellow and red tints.

* * *

His head back, eyes closed, curls damp, his sighs a small sound.

* * *

Tentatively my fingers raise his silk covering higher until I see cock half-staff. My two fingers trail up the appendage eliciting an intake of breath. Trailing down ever so deliberatively to reach the soft curve of the balls I drop my hands.

For a breath of a moment, I wait, my hands going to his waistband, my fingers pulling the fabric down gently as a signal.

Tugging the band partway down to expose the tip of the cock, ghosting my palm over his tip, pinkish in the color, I hesitate slightly.

* * *

Sherlock lifts his hips, letting me slide the boxers off to eye the deliciousness of his manhood.

More lotion on my hands, the right dips back to the thigh kneading, the tips of my fingers lightly brushing the round globules.

Removing my right hand my left runs across his hip, pressing my palm down, trailing small circles.

His erection fully extended and his cock partially bouncing on his pubic hair, I glide both my hands towards those dark curls. Palm down my hands dips under his cock and over to his left side.

His cock jostles against the back of my hands as I slip back and forth, traveling over the hair and skin numerous times.

* * *

Again to his thighs, both palms kneading, one hand then traveling up to his hip, fingertips meeting his cock, tickling the shaft, curly hair twisting around fingers as I move under and back.

Our moans, rain thrums, clock ticks, firewood splinters. 

* * *

Hand under his shaft, holding his balls aside my other hand moves from thigh close to his slit, fingers slightly touching his ass hole.

* * *

Taking my hands off and making use of the lotion, liberally, I run a finger up and down his ass slit slathering around the puckered hole. My finger rims round the perfect little cavity and enters the chamber. Down it goes and then out again taking another finger with it as it dips in and out.

* * *

The left hand gently fists around the top of his cock, his pre-come wetting the tip, my fingers spreading it down the length. My right hand continues to insinuate a finger into his hole and my thumb rubs on his rocks.

Ever so gentle, ever so lightly.

* * *

Rain banging on the window glass, wood hissing into the fire, heart beats loudly noticed.

* * *

Harder now, faster now, my hand's activities feel the urgency building, the quickening of breath, the tightness in the genitals, his head is thrown back, eyes shut tightly.

His chest heaves with the effort, Groans louder, hips rising, he comes, spurts of liquid, over my hands, over his body.

* * *

His head turns to me, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed.

A kiss, light as a birds wing touches my lips.

* * *

The rain just a slight patter on the windows, the fire dying. 

* * *


End file.
